


The Hammer Falls

by Kate_Shepard



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Anti-Blackwall, Betrayal, Difficult Decisions, F/M, Judgment, Mentions of Blackwall & Adaar, Mentions of Doribull, Partner Betrayal, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:56:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23878030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kate_Shepard/pseuds/Kate_Shepard
Summary: Adaar discusses Blackwall's fate with Bull
Relationships: Blackwall/Female Inquisitor, Female Adaar/Iron Bull, Female Inquisitor/Iron Bull
Kudos: 11





	The Hammer Falls

“What am I supposed to do, Bull?” Kadan Adaar demanded, raking a hand through her hair. Despite her size, the supple leather of her boots made no sound over the stone floor of the tower room and only whispered across the rug. Wind and freezing rain lashed at the windows, matching her tempestuous mood, but the crackling fire in the fireplace kept the chill at bay.

“I don’t know,” the big man said with a shrug of a massive shoulder. His demeanor was directly counter to hers; he sprawled sideways across the bed that fit her just fine but seemed much too small whenever he was in it. “I never much liked the guy myself. Didn’t see what you saw in him, that’s for sure. He made my horns itch. That ever happen to you? Something bugs you and they just... _ itch _ ?”

“They’re itching now,” she said through her teeth. Itch wasn’t  _ quite _ the right word, but it was good enough. She knew what he meant, at least. The urge was one she got occasionally before or during sex. Like a deer needing to scrape its antlers. Sometimes she just wanted to bash them against something. Others, she wanted nothing more than to lock horns with the man who was currently doing a very bad job of looking bored. This was a bashing moment rather than a locking one, though. 

They’d just returned from Val Royeaux where her other lover was sitting in an Orlesian prison cell awaiting execution for murder. His crimes were staggering. Assassination, murder, fraud, impersonating a Grey Warden, lying to the Inquisition, lying to  _ her _ . It was enough to leave her reeling. 

She didn’t wonder why he didn’t tell her. That was painfully clear. She might be qunari, and Tal Vashoth at that, but she had as much honor as aggression. 

Her parents had raised her to think outside the box, to seek solutions that might not be readily apparent in the moment, but also to be certain of where her moral compass led. They expected her to have principles on which she wouldn’t compromise, things that she believed no one should do. It had served her well as Inquisitor, allowing her to rule creatively and weave a sometimes razor-thin line between the wants and needs of disparate groups. 

In this, though, she could see no good third option. He would have known that she was duty-bound to deal with him in the way she believed was just. And it probably wouldn’t go in his favor. If he’d had some noble intention behind it, perhaps...but no. He’d cut that off as well. Gold. He’d done it for gold. Her lover had murdered children for gold. He’d felt guilty enough about it to join the Inquisition and attempt to warn her off, but not enough to confess to it until it was going to cost his friend’s life. Everything she’d known about him, about his past and his present and his character had been a lie. He’d tried to warn her, but he hadn’t been specific enough. 

In the end, he’d confessed. Publicly. He hadn’t told her, though. He’d have left her wondering what she’d done to cause him to abandon her. She could understand that, however, could understand the urge to keep at least the illusion of the respect of someone one cared for, to not let them see the ugliest parts. 

She now had to go back and review everything he’d told her about the blight and darkspawn, every question he’d answered about the Grey Wardens, every little thing he’d volunteered. He’d never been a warden. For all she knew, he knew even less than the average layperson and had pulled all of it out his arse. 

“And what about Orlais? I  _ just _ supported Celene in continuing to rule. What will it say about us if the Inquisitor chooses to have a conspirator in the plot to overthrow the empress released? If it becomes known that he and I were involved in a more...intimate manner, that does nothing but compound it. Josephine made it clear that reputation means everything in Orlais. If an assassin’s guild will continue to pursue a contract simply because someone signed it over a century ago for no better reason than reputation, then I must be spotless in this if I am to keep the Inquisition from being tainted by it.”

“Look, boss,” Bull said, half-sitting and finally looking directly at her. “I may not like the guy, but I’ll support you no matter what you do. As long as you come here and stop pacing. You’re making my head hurt, kadan.” 

_Kadan. My heart_. Her parents had given her the name when they'd made the decision to leave the Qun to keep her, but she didn't think Bull was using it now simply because it was her name. There was a softness to the word when he said it that made her want things she shouldn't. 

She sighed, gripping the curved ends of her horns and tugging her head back for a moment. The pressure felt good on her skull, like undoing her heavy braid at the end of a long day. She caught Bull’s look when she released them and could almost hear him offering to do that for her. She wanted that, badly, but not now, not yet. Not while she was still trying to decide the fate of her other lover. Fortunately, he didn’t mind. She was almost certain that he and Dorian were fooling around on the side as well, and she didn’t mind that, either. Not yet, at least. 

At some point, she’d want a commitment; but for now, playing the field and enjoying what they could of each day as it came seemed more relevant than planning a future they couldn’t know they’d have. If there was a chance that the idea of that future would cause her to waver in her commitment to the Inquisition, if it was possible that it could make her choose him over everything else like her parents did when they became Tal Vashoth to be together, then she had to maintain her distance. She didn’t love Blackwall, but he’d helped her to accomplish that goal. 

She went to Bull and perched on the edge of the bed. He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her back against his chest, letting her use him as a cushion, albeit a very hard one. His fingers toyed with the string tying the end of her snowy braid and snapped it without effort. They threaded through her hair, deftly undoing the plait and following the strands up until his calloused fingertips reached her head. 

She groaned at his touch, still astounded by the way his gifted hands managed to unerringly seek out every point of tension in her scalp, around her ears, and along her forehead. He’d also found the velvety spot just above her temples where her horns met her head, one that would make her eyes flutter closed as she all but mewled with pleasure in his arms. He had a similar one behind his ears. 

“I have been fair, if sometimes creative, in my judgments thus far. I’ve demonstrated that I am exacting, but reasonable. Heinous crimes committed by unrepentant criminals, the risk outweighs the benefit of using them. Minor crimes by repentant criminals, I try to find another alternative. This is different. He’s repentant, but what he did was abhorrent, and had his friend not been caught when he was, he’d have continued to attempt to cover it at his men’s expense.” She tipped her head back and looked at him. “What would the qunari do?”

“Kill him,” he said matter-of-factly. “But you are not qunari. You don’t have to do it their way.” 

“What would you do if it was one of the Chargers?” she asked.

“I don’t know.” His good eye narrowed in concentration, his fingers slowing on her scalp. “It’s a different situation. My decisions don’t have the weight yours do. Mercenary companies can have different standards than the Inquisition. If I found out that Krem had done what Blackwall did for the reasons he did, I would probably be upset about the wife and children because we try not to hurt innocents, but when you join the Chargers, your past deeds are wiped away as far as we’re concerned. We only care about what happens now. So finding out that Krem lied, in that case, would be what would piss me off.” He shook his head. “I just don’t know, kadan.” 

She set her jaw and tried to relax into his touch again. “If I let him go, it will be nepotism. I won’t start that. People have to know that even my inner circle is held to the same standards as everyone else. If it wasn’t Blackwall...Thom Rainier...whatever his damn name is, I would behead him. He stays where he is. Blackwall is dead and Thom Rainier is a murderer. Let Orlais handle him.”

Bull’s arm tightened subtly around her waist. “What do you need, kadan?”

She looked up at him. Concern darkened his good eye and thinned his lips. For all her outward frigidity, he knew how heavily these decisions weighed on her. He knew that she would carry her lover’s sentence around with her and would be on edge until the bird arrived with the message of his ultimate fate. He knew she would mourn Blackwall even after that, regardless of what Thom Rainier had done. 

They were two different people in her head. The real Blackwall was faceless to her. The name would forever be associated with the man who’d held her so tenderly in the night, backed her so fiercely on the battlefield, and struggled so hard to do what was right. That was the man she’d come to know, not the one who called himself Thom Rainier and spoke so callously about gold and dead children. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t known when he’d given the order. He didn’t stop when he realized. And his words _.  _ He’d known exactly what he was doing. He didn’t even try to deny it.  _ I’ve been on enough battlefields to know the same crime at the right time would have earned a medal. _ How bitter he’d sounded. 

He’d cared for his men, of that she had no doubt. He was a loyal soldier. But despite his words, she didn’t fully believe that he actually regretted killing the innocents nor that he believed it was wrong. His claims of war rang false when he’d admitted it was all for gold. His remorse over the crime was negated when he resentfully proclaimed that all that kept it from being heroic was a fluke of timing. 

That was not the man she’d grown to care for. That was a loyal man without conscience, which made him as dangerous to her and the Inquisition as she feared Leliana had become. A man like that would commit any atrocity and claim to have done it for her just as Leliana would likely slaughter a village if she thought it would move her forward on the game board the world had become to her. Kadan was merciless enough herself if the situation called for it for people to fear her, but so very many of the problems in this world had stemmed from good intentions applied too ruthlessly. She shared Cassandra’s concerns about their fate should the Inquisition start down that path. 

She shook her head, her hair falling loosely over her shoulders. “I need to stop thinking,” she said. “I’m just going round and round and if I don’t stop, it’ll be like walking in the Fade again. All of my doubts and fears choking me. I don’t know if I can do this, but I know I can’t afford to think that way. So I just need to stop thinking.”

“I can help with that,” he said, rolling her onto her back and stretching her arms above her head. “Don’t move.”

“You’re so good to me, Bull,” she sighed. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“Yes, well. You’ve seen how bad I am at keeping secrets,” he said with a grin. His hand slipped through her horns, pinning her head back, and she moaned in anticipation. “The only decisions you’ll have to make where I’m concerned is how long you want me in your bed.”

“As long as I can have you,” she said, letting the mantle of Inquisitor slip away and allowing the woman to come up to play. 

“Then hold on, little girl, because it’s going to be a long, hard ride.”

“It always is with you.”


End file.
